


Little Boy Lost

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-03
Updated: 2006-03-02
Packaged: 2018-08-15 22:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8074411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Includes child abuse. (02/19/2003)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Since we have never really heard any specific references to Trip's father, this is my take on why. I had this bunny nibbling in the back of my brain for some time. If you're comfortable with it as an AU, fine by me, but until TPTB write about Charles Tucker the Second, I'm sticking with this one. No Beta, no nada.  


* * *

The Enterprise NX-01 cruised along at warp 2 with no particular destination plotted. The crew had been on a whirlwind of adventures the past few months, so this down time was welcomed by all.

Captain Jonathan Archer sat in his ready room, staring at the end transmission words on his view screen. He had finished speaking with Admiral Forrest almost ten minutes ago, but couldn't bring himself out of his reverie. Although his discussion with the admiral would not change the ship's course, it would bring them new contacts. The chime sounded which caused his head to snap around and he faced the door.

"Come in," Archer called out.

The door slid open and Lieutenant Malcolm Reed stepped in, hesitantly. No matter how many adventures he had been on with the captain, he still had felt that gnawing apprehension when called to this room.

"Sit down, Malcolm." Archer smiled, waving his hand at the chair against the wall.

"Thank you, sir." Reed sat down on the edge of the chair stiffly.

"Relax," Archer wrinkled his brow. "Please?"

Reed let out a nervous laugh and pushed himself back in the chair, but still his hands rested on his thighs.

"I just received a communique from Admiral Forrest," Archer began. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry about your father."

Malcolm felt the heat at the base of the back of his neck slowly rise to his ears. He was sure there was visible redness glowing off of his flesh.

"Thank you, sir." Malcolm's mumbled response was accompanied by downcast eyes.

"But I'm glad he's going to be all right." Archer added.

"Yes," Malcolm's head lifted up, but his eyes rested on the edge of the captain's desk. "So, it seems."

Archer finally rose and walked around his desk, leaning against the front of it. He gazed down at the complex young man and wondered just how much longer his upbringing would impair his abilities to get close to anyone. He sighed as he thought how lucky he and Trip had been, to be raised by loving families. They had no problem getting close to each other in a solid friendship that bordered on the emotional and psychic connections of twins. Except, there was that one area Trip never ventured into with Jon. Perhaps that's why he felt he needed to talk to Malcolm, because that one area with Trip was about to surface. This visit with Malcolm might be a dress rehearsal.

"Well," Archer wrapped up. "Even though my sentiments are late, I wanted you to know how I felt."

"Thank you, sir." Malcolm repeated, rising and standing stiffly at attention.

"See you at 1900 for dinner, remember?" Archer asked.

Malcolm Reed nodded and turned to leave, but stopped just at the door. He turned back around, with hands clasped behind his back.

"Sir, I didn't feel it was necessary to inform you of my father's illness," Reed offered. "By the time anyone got around to sending me a message, he had been convalescing at home for nearly a month. I'm sorry if you felt slighted."

"No, no," Archer rose to his full height now. "I just wanted you to know that I'm here. Anytime. For any reason."

"Yes, sir." Malcolm turned and activated the door panel.

As it slid shut behind his armory officer, Archer shook his head slowly at the closed door. One down and one to go.

* * *

Commander Charles "Trip" Tucker the Third shoveled in the chicken and dumplings as if there was no tomorrow. He was starving since he hadn't eaten all day; well, there was the bagel and cream cheese on the way to engineering that morning, but that was it. He was so immersed in running diagnostics and making sure the ship was in tiptop condition during this lull, that he had lost all track of time.

Archer and Reed were eating their dinner, each sharing polite chitchat. Periodically, Archer would glance at Tucker and appear to say something, but would hold back.

"I thought it was campy at best," Malcolm was saying.

"It was the Marx Brothers," Archer retorted. "I think if you looked up in the dictionary at that time, they'd be the definition."

"Oh, well," Malcolm turned to Trip. "Then I guess I did get it, Mr. Tucker."

Trip now lifted his head and looked at Malcolm. "What?"

"You told me I wasn't getting the movie last night," Reed reminded him.

"Oh," Trip shrugged.

The steward came in and began to clear the table. Archer watched Trip and then decided this was now the best time.

"Trip," Archer chirped out. "I had a communique from Admiral Forrest today."

"Oh, yeah?" Trip looked at him. "Anythin' wrong?"

"No," The captain then frowned and looked unsure. "At least I don't think so. Your father is on a Vulcan science ship headed this way. He was on a business trip and crossed paths with them. When he found out they were heading our way, he hitched a ride."

Trip's face drained of all blood and the pale, wide-eyed stare sent a chill through Archer's body.

"Charles Tucker the Second?" Malcolm asked in surprised.

"He's dead." Trip managed through gritted teeth. He rose from his chair and kept his eyes on the table. "May I be excused sir?"

"Sure," Archer answered in resignation.

"What was that about, sir?" Malcolm asked. "I certainly didn't mean any harm."

"It's all right, Malcolm." Archer reassured him. "You didn't know. Trip's real father died in a car accident when Trip was only five years old. His mother remarried about three years later and the man, Sean O'Reilly, adopted her kids. His mother insisted Trip be allowed to choose whether or not to take his stepfather's name. Trip refused and that set the foundation for a life of resentment between the two."

"A grown man, resenting a child for wanting to keep his father's name?" Malcolm couldn't comprehend that. "The adults I've known in my lifetime surely never cared what a child felt, but the importance of lineage is understood."

"I never met the man," Archer tried to explain. "And Trip never mentioned him much. For as long as I've known him, he's planned his visits back home for when his stepfather was away on business."

"I thought I was the only one with a scarred paternal past," Malcolm snorted.

Archer smiled. "Oh, I'm sure everyone has one to some degree."

"I suppose," Malcolm shook his head. "When will we rendezvous?"

"Tomorrow at 0330." Archer informed him. "Think I better go check up on Trip."

"Would you tell him I'm sorry that I upset him?" Malcolm stood as Archer did.

"I will," Archer placed a hand on Malcolm's arm. "And don't worry. You didn't mean to hurt him. He knows that."

"So do I," Reed sighed. "But that doesn't make it any easier."

* * *

The door chime was intrusive and his muscles tensed. Trip sat on his bed, legs drawn up with his chin resting on his knees. He didn't want to move, afraid he might reach for something and throw it across the room.

The chime sounded again, and Trip inhaled deeply. When he let out the breath, he stopped in mid exhale as he heard the door swoosh open. He knew Jon had exercised his captain's override code to unlock Trip's door.

Jon entered the dimly lit room and turned to see the form of his best friend sitting on the bed. He walked over and sat down next to Trip, studying his face. He couldn't read much, since the younger man's face was virtually blank. He glanced down at Trip's shoes.

"Didn't your mama ever teach you not to put your shoes on the furniture?" Jon asked quietly.

Trip raised his brows, but leaving his head down, looked at Archer with tired eyes. Jon reached out and tapped the top of one of Trip's shoes and the blond man lifted the foot up dutifully. As Jon began to unzip Trip's boot and pull it off, Trip leaned back on his elbows.

"How long has it been since you've seen him?" Jon asked, continuing to remove Trip's sock and then to start in on the other foot.

"Ten, eleven years, I guess." Trip muttered.

"That's a long time." Jon mused.

There was a brief pause as Archer finished slipping the socks into the boots and placed them on the floor off to the side.

"Malcolm okay?" Trip asked, uneasy.

"He said to tell you he's sorry for upsetting you." Jon relayed.

"What'd ya tell 'im?"

"Just what I know. Very little." Jon honestly replied. "But he knows you didn't mean to snap at him like that."

"What time's that Vulcan ship gettin' here?" Trip settled down on his back, his hands tucked behind his head.

"About 0330 tomorrow." Jon told him. "Why don't you take the day off?"

"Naw," Trip shook his head. "I don't need that. Just need to keep busy. Not think about it...him."

"You know, Trip," Archer began. "I've never asked a whole lot of questions about your dad...step dad. But you know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

Trip shifted his eyes over to the window and watched the stars shimmy past. He trusted Jon with his life, many times in the past. But trusting Jon with his past life, now that was a risk he had never been willing to take. How could he tell this man that? His best friend, who never hesitated to confide in him.

"I know," Trip mumbled. "Just, let me deal with it on my own for now?"

Jon patted Trip's thigh and stood up. "Sure thing. Get a good night's sleep, buddy."

"Thanks." Trip said, turning over on his side to watch Jon leave.

"See you in the morning." Jon called back as the door closed.

Trip drew his knees close to his chest and curled up into a tight ball. He felt his body tremble a bit, but began to take deep breathes to calm himself. He couldn't let Sean O'Reilly do this to him again. He was not eight years old and waiting in his room for that man to come and set him straight. He was a thirty-something, chief engineer of the Enterprise, a commander in Starfleet.

He had been so wrapped up in the shock of the news of the visit, that he hadn't really taken in all the implications. Why did Sean O'Reilly want to see him? What possible reason could he have for hauling his carcass all the way out there to see a stepson who despised him and vice versa?

Well, whatever the reason, Trip was sure it wasn't going to be a pleasant visit. Nothing in his life that involved Sean O'Reilly had ever been pleasant. Ever. Trip shivered again and grabbed hold of the blanket, pulling it up over himself tightly.


	2. Chapter 2

Captain Archer nervously pivoted on his heels. Where in the hell was Trip? It was already 0345 hours and he was standing, alone, waiting for Sean O'Reilly to emerge from the docking bay doors.

Trip had insisted on working a full shift that day, but assured his captain he would be there to meet is stepfather. It wasn't like Trip to leave Archer waiting.

"Mr. O'Reilly," Archer put on his best diplomatic smile, and extended his right hand.

"Captain Archer," O'Reilly shook Archer's hand firmly. "My wife has told me so much about you." His Irish brogue was evident, but not thick.

The captain just grinned back, unable to return the sentiment, because Trip had never talked at length or favorably about this man. He noticed O'Reilly looking around.

"It seems my chief engineer has gotten tied up with his duties." Archer tried to cover.

"Ah," O'Reilly nodded. "I see."

"Trip is very conscientious about his job." Archer said, feeling the need to defend.

"Charles always was a dawdler." O'Reilly sighed. "I tried to teach him better, but I'm sure you know he can be quite stubborn."

"Really?" Archer asked. "I hadn't noticed." That wasn't all true, but the captain didn't like this man's tone. He was putting Trip down, that he was sure of.

"I'm sorry I'm late," Trip called as he bounded up and stood next to the captain, never looking at his stepfather's face.

"Well," Archer sighed in relief. "No harm done."

O'Reilly eyed his stepson, up and down. He walked up to Trip, towering above the younger man. Trip kept his eyes downcast and nervously bit his lower lip.

"Well, well," O'Reilly marveled. "Look at you, laddy. All grown up. Your mama is so proud of you."

"Is she all right, sir?" Trip asked quickly, finally looking up at the man.

"Yes," O'Reilly flatly responded. "Did you think otherwise?"

"Well," Trip began. "I just thought...I mean...you came all this way..."

Archer felt very uneasy as he watched his best friend stammer and wring his hands behind his back. This man, Sean O'Reilly, glared down at Trip with blatant enjoyment at seeing his stepson squirm.

"Trip has given you his quarters for your stay." Archer spoke up. "I'm sure you would like to settle in, Mr. O'Reilly."

"Yes, I would." O'Reilly now slung his bag at Trip, who caught it awkwardly in the side.

"I'd like to invite you to dinner in the captain's mess at 1800 hours." Archer forced out with an even tone.

"We'll be there, captain." O'Reilly called back as he started to move off and placed a firm hand on Trip's shoulder.

Archer watched as Trip quickly moved to lead his stepfather down the hall. It was almost chilling how Trip's body movement exuded caution beside that man. Then the captain frowned as he saw O'Reilly give Trip's shoulder a shove and then drop his hand just as they turned the corner.

* * *

As the door closed behind them, Trip put down O'Reilly's bag by the cabinet. As he started to straighten up and turn around, he saw his stepfather was almost on him.

"Keep me waiting, would you, lad?" O'Reilly's tone was menacing.

Trip swallowed hard and looked at the floor behind him. He could not take even the slightest step back to put distance between them.

"Well?" O'Reilly asked, impatience in his voice.

"I—I got held up in engineerin', sir." Trip stammered.

"Hogwash, Charles!" O'Reilly raised his voice.

Trip closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had spent the last night promising himself he wasn't going to allow this man to bully him.

"No!" Trip hollered through gritted teeth. Before he realized it, his hands came up and his palms slammed into Sean O'Reilly's chest.

O'Reilly staggered backwards, giving Trip enough room to side step and get behind him. Sean wheeled around and glared at his stepson.

"What, my little man?" O'Reilly asked, taunting. "Hmm? Tell me? What is it?"

Trip was breathing heavily with clenched fists down at his sides. He hated his stepfather more than he ever could've remembered. He had this man dead and buried in his mind a long time ago. Now, here he was just like before.

"Why did you come here?" Trip managed to ask.

"To see if you have put the past behind you. All of your past." O'Reilly picked up his bag and began to unpack.

"You," Trip told him. "I put you behind me a long time ago."

"Don't write me off so soon, lad." O'Reilly snickered. "Survival of the fittest, eh?"

"I survived." Trip mumbled under his breath.

Sean turned around to face Trip now. The look in his eyes was unreadable. There was no smirk on his face, just curiosity.

"You did, indeed." O'Reilly shook his head. "Like breaking a wild animal, raising you."

"Go to hell." Trip cursed, turning toward the door.

"Ah, ah, ah," O'Reilly called out. "I didn't say you could leave, Charles."

Trip stopped short, closing his eyes tightly. His will wanted him to leave. His mind knew he should leave, but his feet wouldn't move.

"So disrespectful of your mother's husband." Sean criticized. "Never could break you of that."

"You just fed it every time ya came at me." Trip whirled around to face his stepfather now.

"I don't think I like you like this, Charles." Sean told him, his voice getting harsher.

"Like I care?" Trip asked. He could see O'Reilly getting hotter and found he enjoyed causing that reaction.

"Stop it," O'Reilly ordered. "Now."

"You're in my quarters," Trip told him. "On Cap'n Archer's ship. You don't order me 'round here."

"I'm a guest." O'Reilly insisted.

"You're a son of a bitch..."

O'Reilly lunged forward and backhanded Trip across the face. Once Trip shook off the attack he stood up straight, staring down his enemy. He was ready for a fight; in fact he wanted one. The longer he stared into the cold eyes of the older man, the more he felt he was no match for him. And, he thought, '...that's probably a plus in my favor.'

"You're too big for me to take the strap to your backside." O'Reilly said, then let a wicked grin spread across his face. "The good ole days, eh laddy?"

A chill ran down Trip's spine. How many times he had felt the strength of this man's anger on his behind, he couldn't remember. He just had to keep reminding himself that he was a grown man now.

"I could tell her," Trip threatened. "What went on when she wasn't 'round."

"You could," Sean laughed. "But you won't. It'd break her heart and you would never hurt her that way."

Trip rubbed his cheek and moved over to the desk, pulling out the chair to sit down. While Sean continued to unpack Trip watched, drained. He had all this fight in him, built up over night; hell, over a lifetime. But it was not enough to defeat this man's hold over him. He had endured a childhood of torment at the hands of O'Reilly because his mother's happiness meant everything to him and still did.

"Ever hear from Trina?" O'Reilly asked as if they were old friends just catching up with each other.

"What?" Trip asked, still dazed by the realization that he couldn't shake this man. "Katrina Brady." O'Reilly said. "You mean you don't even remember your best friend, and then girlfriend, from 4th grade on up until...When was it?"

Trip felt a warm flush at the base of his neck that quickly rose up to envelop his face and ears. Trina Brady. Now there's the name of someone he hadn't heard of, let alone thought of in years. Hadn't or couldn't think of her. His stepfather had made sure Trip would never think about Trina without feeling pain.

"Oh, sweet Jesus," Trip covered his face with his hands.

"10th grade," Sean finally said. "That was it."

Trip rubbed his face, hard with his hands. Slowly he stood up and stared at the door. Without a word he walked to the door, punched the panel and left his quarters.

* * *

Malcolm Reed stood hunched over the terminal in the armory working on some recalibrations of the torpedo launcher. He was so engrossed, he didn't hear the other man enter.

"Malcolm?"

Reed turned around, startled. He saw Trip standing there, looking pensive. Upon seeing the mood of his friend, he realized Trip had used his first name and his voice had been soft and almost pleading.

"What is it?" Malcolm asked with concern.

"Can we talk somewhere?" Trip asked, cocking his head to the side.

"Sure," Malcolm came from behind the terminal and the two walked out together.

* * *

Malcolm waved a hand to the chair at his desk, once the two had entered his quarters. Trip took the seat easily, staring at the floor. Malcolm sat on the bed eyeing him.

"I'm sorry for bitin' your head off yesterday..." Trip began, then broke off. He curled his upper lip in and tightly bore down trying to hold off the tears that were close to surfacing.

"It's all right," Malcolm assured Trip. "What is it, Trip?"

"He was a brutal monster, Malcolm." Trip finally blurted out. "He bullied me from the time he married my mother until I got outta the house to go away to school. And..."

Malcolm watched as Trip rose from the chair and moved to the window, leaning against it and resting his forehead on his arm.

"And he beat me every chance he got. My mama worked evenin's and that left him with us kids. The others were safe. It was only me he was after."

Malcolm stared at Trip in disbelief. He gathered his wits and got up and moved to his friend. He placed a hand on Trip's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Trip."

"I never told anyone," Trip kept going. "I mean it, Malcolm. No one but that bastard and myself know. I never could tell the cap'n. If I did..."

Trip pulled away and moved to the bed, sitting down and resting his head in his hands.

"There's way more than I can tell ya right now." Trip admitted. "And I know if I ever told Jon, I'd have to tell it all. But I can't. Not yet."

"I won't tell a soul," Malcolm assured him. "I'm honored that you chose to tell me this, Trip. But I think you need to tell someone...better suited for this kind of trauma."

"I need to talk to you." Trip insisted. "Your parents aren't exactly mother and father of the year material. The cap'n's dad was a saint. He'd never understand."

"I won't argue with you," Malcolm promised. "But I think you're wrong."

"Didn't ya ever wanna hurt 'em?"

"What?"

"Your parents. For what they did to you." Trip asked.

"Good Lord, no." Malcolm shook his head. "I mean, as a child, I wished for bad luck to fall their way. But I never wanted to hurt them."

"I did." Trip looked up at Malcolm, the tears brimming his eyes. "I dreamt up ways to kill him. Especially after Trina."

"Trina?"

Trip caught himself now, jumping up and moving to the door.

"I—I better go." Trip stammered.

"Trip," Malcolm called as he rushed to cut in front of Trip at the door. "Who is Trina?"

Trip swallowed and took a deep breath. He looked up at Malcolm, the tears falling now.

"Not now, Malcolm..." Trip shook his head. "Please? I have to deal with this inside first. It's somethin' I guess I blocked out. Until he brought it up. I'm not even sure I remember it all the way it happened."

"What happened?" Malcolm pressed, grabbing Trip by the shoulders firmly.

"No!" Trip shook off Malcolm's grip, pressing the panel and bolting out into the hall.

Malcolm let him go, unsure what he could do if he went after him. There was more here than just a bad relationship with his stepfather. It was a bad situation with an abusive stepfather.

Although he had made a promise to Trip about not telling a soul, he needed to put up a red flag to someone else. He reached for the com panel next to the door.

"Reed to Captain Archer."


	3. Chapter 3

Trip sat at his station in engineering. He'd busied himself with work. Busy work his mother would call it. She used to tell him he couldn't run away from his troubles all his life and that he'd have to face them head on. A breathy snort escaped him as he thought of how little she had known about him and his troubles back then.

Now those troubles, the ones he ran away from, were coming back to haunt him. Sean O'Reilly had seen to that when he brought up Trina Brady.

Trip closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. She had been his best friend for all those years. They had grown up together. How could he have just swept her out of his memory like that? Then the fog in his brain began to lift and he answered his own question.

Trip realized he had lied to Malcolm earlier. Someone other than Sean O'Reilly and himself knew of the abuse he had endured. Trina knew the secret. She had found out when they were about eleven years old and Trip had fled to her house one night. He had been afraid that his stepfather was going to kill him. She had comforted him, let him cuddle with her on the white canopy bed with the soft quilt of hearts and flowers. And he had loved her.

When they were almost sixteen, Trip had found his love for her had deepened. He had fallen in love with her, but never dared tell her. He might have on that day. The last day they ever would spend together.

His mind was racing now, back in time. Back to that fateful afternoon when he and Trina had gone for a swim in the pool to take a break from studying for an algebra test. His mother was out shopping with the other kids, so the only one home was his stepfather.

They had dried off and gone into the house and upstairs to his bedroom to finish studying. Trip had gone back downstairs to get them something to drink. As he made his way back to his room, he heard Trina whimper and then the muffled sound of the voice he hated most in the world.

"Sir?"

Tucker's eyes flew open and his head snapped up to see Crewman Stewart standing next to him.

"Are you all right, sir?" Stewart asked, her face deep with concern.

"What?" Tucker asked.

"You were breathing awful heavily."

"Oh," Tucker shook his head, standing up now. "I'm fine. Thanks for askin'. What time is it, anyway?"

"1745 hours, sir."

Stewart watched the commander exit engineering at top speed and just shrugged her shoulders in resignation. __________

Jonathan Archer sat in the captain's mess, elbows on the table and his mouth pressed in to his clasped hands before him.

Malcolm Reed had given him some mysterious and disturbing news. Trip's relationship with his stepfather was, quite possibly, more intense and volatile than they thought. The lieutenant would not break the confidence he was bestowed, but thought it appropriate to inform his captain.

Jon felt a twinge of envy toward Reed. Trip felt he could talk to the armory officer and not his best friend. That hurt some, but Jon understood that Malcolm's own parental discord made him a sympathetic and logical choice. Logical. Sub-commander T'Pol's influence on his private thoughts was chilling at times.

The door chimed and Archer called out admittance. He was taken when the door slid open to admit Trip, who was surprisingly early. The younger man nodded and sat down.

"You look tired, Trip." Archer told him.

"Yeah," Trip sighed, unfolding his napkin and placing it on his lap. "I am a bit."

"Take the next few days off," Archer told him. "It's okay."

"I don't wanna, sir." Trip answered, now looking up directly into his captain's eyes. "I need to keep busy."

"Trip..." Archer was cut off as the door slid open, without a chime, and Sean O'Reilly lumbered in.

"Well," O'Reilly said. "Seems my son has found time to spend with his old man."

Archer shot a quick glance at Trip and saw his chief engineer's jaws clench and the muscles in his face stiffen. O'Reilly sat opposite Trip and immediately leaned forward.

"Are we going to spend any time alone talking old times, boy?" O'Reilly asked.

Trip could feel his throat tightening and his heart race. This swine before him, garbage at the captain's table, was bound and determined to destroy Trip's life; to break him down in front of Jonathan Archer; never.

As Charles Tucker III looked up and stared into the face of his past his breathing calmed.

"After dinner, sir. There're a lot of memories that came crashin' back this afternoon." Trip smiled now, but it did not exude warmth. It was meant to be cold and threatening.

Archer watched this display. Stepfather and stepson, two bulls squaring off, circling the other for a sign of weakness. Neither showed an ounce of backing down. This meal could wind up a gastrointestinal nightmare.

Yet, no more words were spoken between Trip and O'Reilly. Archer answered questions about their mission and adventures. Trip ate, sparingly, and responded to the captain when addressed. It was by no means a pleasant dinner, but it went off without either O'Reilly or Trip making any further attempt to goad the other.

"Well, that was a fine meal, Captain." O'Reilly said as he stood up.

"Thank you for joining me." Archer stood up and extended his hand.

Trip was up and at the door quickly, waiting for O'Reilly.

"Trip," Archer addressed his chief engineer now. "Remember what I said about the next few days, so stay up as late as you want."

"Yes, sir." Trip nodded and then pushed the button to open the door once O'Reilly came up beside him.

As the two left the room, Archer sank back in his chair. He couldn't help but feel this night was going to be a long one.

* * *

Malcolm Reed sat at his computer terminal in his quarters re-reading the latest letter from Aunt Sherry. His father had suffered a heart attack almost two months ago and by the time his aunt's letter had reached him, the senior Reed was resting at home.

"Probably barking commands at Mum." Malcolm mumbled under his breath out loud. He switched the screen off and flopped down on his bunk.

He cared for his parents. They brought him into existence and raised him properly with schooling and manners. They never physically reprimanded him once while he was growing up. Striking him would have required touching and, after all, they weren't people who were comfortable with physical contact; any physical contact.

Trip's confession earlier in the day surprised and disturbed Malcolm. It had taken the lieutenant aback when Trip eluded that confiding in Malcolm was because of their mutual parentally challenged backgrounds. Disturbing that Trip, who always seemed so secure in who he was and grounded, was a physically abused child.

Trip was, at times, a trying adult. Malcolm could only imagine what sort of child he was. But at any rate, no child deserved to be beaten. He decided that he would make it a point to have his say with O'Reilly before he set foot off Enterprise.

* * *

O'Reilly looked out the window, gazing at the dark expanse. He wondered how any one could get used to aimlessly drifting through space. Exploring, that is what they call it, he reminded himself. He heard the door to the bathroom open and watched the reflection of his stepson slump into the chair nearby.

"Say something, boy." O'Reilly muttered. " I know you want to call me every cuss word you know."

"I want answers." Trip mumbled warily. "The way I see it, you owe me."

O'Reilly turned around, leaning his back against the wall with his arms crossed. "I owe you?"

"Yeah," Trip glared up at the man. "For all you did."

"It's the other way around, laddy." O'Reilly snickered. "Because of what I did for you."

Trip had gone into the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. He was certain he couldn't handle a civil conversation with Sean O'Reilly being as heated as he had been since the mention of Trina Brady. Now he knew he wouldn't be able to contain himself.

"What did you do for me?" Trip asked, thinking. "Ridicule, berate and bully me as a small child. I'm not gettin' any thanks rollin' off my tongue, here."

"I taught you to be tough, that's all. You needed it." Sean offered.

"You whipped me." Trip replied. "Mostly just cuz ya could. Ya never laid a hand on the others."

"A few times, Charles," O'Reilly passed off. "I only took the strap to you a few times. And it was always for a good reason. Like when you got too mouthy for your own good. You still like that?"

Trip rose from his chair and closed the distance between O'Reilly and himself. "You just remember it the way you want to."

"The way it was, boy!" O'Reilly raised his voice now. "And Trina? How do you remember that?"

Trip turned and began to nervously pace. He had remembered hearing Trina whimper and O'Reilly's voice low, but forceful in his room that day.

"She was backed up against the wall." Trip ran his hands through his hair and left them tightly gripped there. "You were leanin' on the wall, coverin' her. She was cryin'."

For the first time since arriving aboard Enterprise, Sean O'Reilly's hard expression softened slightly. "Go on, boy."

Trip swallowed hard and took a deep breath. He let his hands fall to his sides and sunk back down in his chair. His blue eyes glistened sadly from unshed tears that were surfacing along with repressed memories.

"I—I couldn't see your hands..." Trip's voice strained, his breaths pronounced. "I told ya to leave her alone..."

O'Reilly gazed down at his stepson. The younger man looked up at him, the tears now falling from his eyes in a mixture of confusion, anger and hate.

"I didn't touch her that way, Charlie." O'Reilly said haltingly.

"Trip!" Tucker jumped up from his seat now, fists clenched at his sides. "Why couldn't ya ever call me that?"

"Because I thought you could be more than that," Sean O'Reilly responded.

Trip shook his head violently now. "Ya don't make any more sense now than ya did back then! Ya made her cry! She was sayin' don't do it! And then, she ran outta the house and I never saw her again! She wasn't at school that next week and her folks wouldn't let me see her or talk to her. Then she moved away that next weekend. It was cuz of you! Ya had to do somethin' to her!"

"Charles," O'Reilly moved on him and grabbed him by the shoulders. "I found out they were moving because of her father's job. I told her to tell you. She wasn't going to. She just wanted to leave, no goodbyes. That's why she was crying..."

"No!" Trip's fists came up quickly and pounded O'Reilly's chest. The older man stumbled backward and Trip turned and flew out of the cabin.

O'Reilly grabbed his chest and moved to the bed, lying down slowly. He wondered how long it would take that boy to realize just what was truth and what was not about his life. Maybe he had been hard on him when he was a small boy. But Charlie was living in the shadow of a dead man. The very name he chose to keep was that of another's. The nickname a reference to his place in line behind two others. That boy needed to be who he was, not who he thought his dead father wanted him to be. Sean O'Reilly closed his eyes now and waited for the next round.


	4. Chapter 4

Racing down the corridors at warp speed with his fellow crewmen's faces and bodies a blur, his chest tightened. The lighting, though subdued against the gray metal walls, hurt his eyes. His heart was pounding and all he wanted was to get inside where it was safe. Where he felt safe.

Instinctively Trip Tucker's hand flew up and accessed the panel, causing the door to slide open. He bolted inside, letting the door close behind him.

He felt the claws tugging at the fabric on the leg of his uniform and heard the panting of welcoming excitement. But he couldn't acknowledge the little beagle, for he was on a downward spiral into his dark past.

Jonathan Archer looked up over the book in his hands where he was sprawled out on his bunk and glanced over at the door when he heard it open. It was still pretty early in the night and he had expected Trip to visit longer with O'Reilly before retiring to the cot in his captain's cabin.

When Trip gave up his quarters for his stepfather Archer had invited him to bunk with him, feeling from Malcolm's information that Trip needed to be with someone. Now, upon seeing Trip's agitated state, Jon knew his feelings were grounded.

"Trip," Jon put the book down and sat up quickly. "What is it?"

Trip just shook his head, his mouth slightly moving up and down as if he would speak. But all that happened were tears welled up in his eyes and he charged into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

Jon jumped off the bed and went to the bathroom door leaning close to it. "Trip, are you all right?"

No answer from the bathroom. Jon placed his ear against the cool, metal door and thought he heard faint sobs. He couldn't be in the dark any longer and if Trip wasn't going to talk to him, then he knew who would. Moving to the companel, Archer punched the button.

"Archer to Lieutenant Reed. Come to my quarters immediately."

The captain rushed back to the bathroom door, hearing the armory officer's voice acknowledge him. He listened in again and heard a choked sob down toward the floor. He knelt down to get level, he assumed, with Trip.

"Malcolm's coming over, Trip." Jon's voice bounced off the door. "It'll be okay."

Porthos jumped at his master with his front paws coming to rest on the man's forearm. Archer picked up the dog and cuddled him, knowing Porthos sensed the unrest.

The door chimed and Jon called out for Malcolm to enter. He rose with Porthos in his arms keeping his vigil by the bathroom door. Reed stood in the center of the room, looking a bit perplexed.

"Trip's locked himself in the bathroom." Jon informed the other man. "He came in all upset, looking like he was going to explode. He went in there and hasn't said a word."

Reed lowered his head and drew in a deep breath. "Captain, I promised I wouldn't say..."

"Malcolm," Jon urged gently. "I can't help him if I don't know what's going on. And if you won't tell me, then you have to try."

Reed shifted his weight nervously. He wasn't good at this sort of thing. Comforting another was just not something he had ever done well, if at all. He regarded the captain, knowing he could order him to tell what he knew. But Archer would never do that. He would plead and urge, but never force Malcolm to break his word to Trip.

* * *

Trip sat in a niche next to the commode, knees drawn up tightly with his arms folded across them. He stared at the door, choking back sobs as tears fell from his eyes. It all happened in a split second it seemed. From the distance between his quarters to Jon's he had remembered far more than he had thought possible. A flood of memories, painful memories, washed over him and swept away the hate. All he had left was hurt.

Sean O'Reilly had, indeed, whipped him a few times. But Trip now remembered that they were for reasons. True, physical punishment was neither his mother's way nor his real father's. But his stepfather was a childless man before he met Trip's mother. A man inexperienced with children and faced with a bitter and difficult boy named Charles Tucker the Third.

* * *

Archer went to the cabinet to grab a shirt and pulled it on. Reed watched him, hands on his hips.

"I don't think it's a good idea for you to call on Mr. O'Reilly at the moment." Reed said.

"It can't wait, Malcolm." Archer said in a controlled tone. "While I'm gone, try and get him out of the bathroom. If he's real upset call Phlox to give him something to calm him down. If not, see if you can get him to bed."

"Sir..."

"Will you do that for me?" Archer asked pointedly.

Reed just nodded as he watched the captain leave quickly. He turned toward the bathroom door and walked up to it.

"I'm here, Trip." Reed called out. "The captain's gone to see your stepfather."

After a few minutes and no answer, Malcolm moved to the nearby chair and sat down to wait.

* * *

Archer stood in Trip's quarters facing the reclining form of Sean O'Reilly on the bunk.

"What do you want me to say, Captain?" O'Reilly asked. "That I was a brutish, uncaring monster to that boy?"

"He's not a boy anymore." Archer quietly corrected.

"No," Sean sighed. "I guess he's not physically. But he will always be just an angry little boy inside until he faces the truth."

"A truth you won't tell me." The captain stared down at the older man.

"Can't tell you." O'Reilly answered. "If I tell you, you will tell Charlie. He has to remember and come to terms with it on his own. Until then, he will never really be at peace."

"Can you tell me why you beat him?"

O'Reilly shook his head and sat up now. "Did he tell you that?"

"Indirectly." Archer responded.

"I gave him sound thrashings on a few occasions, but you could count them on one hand." Sean said, holding up his hand for visual reference.

"One time too many as far as I'm concerned." Archer angrily replied.

"He was not easy to get through to, Captain." O'Reilly explained. "I doubt he has changed much."

Despite the serious situation, Archer couldn't help but let one corner of his mouth turn up in an almost grin at that thought. Trip was still pig-headed, he thought as he remembered his best friend duping Malcolm into that little exploring stunt on the repair station.

"Captain," O'Reilly sat up. "I won't tell you specifics, but I can tell you that Charlie's biggest problem is not with me. For that he needs to look to his father. Charles Tucker the Second."

* * *

The door opened and Trip stood in the doorway of the bathroom. Malcolm looked up, but made no sudden move. He watched as Trip moved to the bed and sat down, head hanging.

"I told him I hated him." Trip mumbled, his voice raspy. "And then I wouldn't speak to him anymore. He pleaded with me to at least say good night. But I wouldn't."

Reed watched as Trip lowered his head on the pillow, curling up in a tight ball on the captain's bed. Porthos had retreated to the security of his bed, head down and with eyes as wide as saucers. Malcolm leaned down to pet the dog's head, before rising and moving to the bed to sit beside Trip.

"The next mornin' he left for work..." Trip started to cry again, not loudly. "I never saw him again."

Malcolm's eyebrows went up as the realization set in. Trip was talking about his real father. So, he had been angry with his father before his death. The horror of the guilt that must have been thrust upon the poor child was astounding. Without second thoughts, Malcolm's hand rested on Trip's shoulder.

"Trip," Malcolm heard himself saying. "You were a child."

"A selfish, spoiled little boy!" Trip spat out between sobs.

The door opened and Archer entered, stopping short at the scene he walked in on. Malcolm felt rage when he saw O'Reilly was with the captain, but Archer held up his hand to Trip's stepfather and the man remained leaning against the wall. Regaining mobility in his legs, Jon approached the bed when Malcolm nodded an all clear to him. He knelt down next to Reed, not wanting to intrude on the exchange between Trip and the lieutenant.

"I wanted this antique transistor radio kit." Trip began his story, his head buried in the crook of his arm. "But my daddy said no. I started throwin' a tantrum and demandin' to know why. He tried to explain to me that he couldn't afford it at the moment, but that maybe Santa Claus would bring it. I was so mad. I didn't care 'bout not enough money. I wanted that damn kit. That's when I told him...that I hated him."

As Trip began to sob again, Jon looked to Malcolm questioningly.

"That was the night before his father was killed." Reed explained. "Trip wouldn't talk to him anymore after that. The next day his father went off to work."

Archer nodded knowingly. "And never came back." He leaned closer toward Trip now. "Don't you see, Trip? You directed your anguish for the loss of your father and the circumstances surrounding that to your stepfather and turned it into hate." He looked up at O'Reilly now and motioned him over.

Malcolm was about to protest, when Archer shook his head and grabbed the armory officer by the arm rising with him and leading him back into the shadows by the door. Malcolm wasn't sure about this, but felt the captain had to know what he was doing.

O'Reilly sat on the bed now watching his stepson thoughtfully.

"All that anger bottled up inside one tiny, little boy." Sean said.

Trip's head shot up and glared at O'Reilly instinctively. Then his expression changed to a pensive gaze. It shifted when he saw Jon and Malcolm heading for the door and O'Reilly followed his stare.

"Please stay, both of you." Sean O'Reilly directed to Archer and Reed and they stayed put. "At first I thought you were just an obstinate little bugger." O'Reilly told him. "Not long after I married your mother, I found out what was really going on. I was there, your father was not."

"How?" Trip asked.

"How did I know?" Sean asked in clarification. When Trip nodded he continued. "While I waited for your mother to come home from work, I would sit up in bed and do some work. I heard you having those nightmares. I went in one night and you were talking to him. Telling him how sorry you were that you wouldn't talk to him."

"He'd come in my room," Trip remembered. "In my dream and I'd get to tell him that I loved him and beg him to forgive me. He'd come over and pick me up and hold me in his arms."

"That always settled you down," O'Reilly remembered. "So you could sleep."

A rush of heat swept across Trip's body, his ears burning. He always had vivid memories of the feeling of being held and rocked in those dreams. He turned over on his back and stared up at his stepfather. "It was you."

Sean O'Reilly nodded in affirmation. Many nights he would go into little Charlie's room when he heard his stepson talking, pleading in his sleep. He would scoop up the little blond haired boy and rock him gently, whispering that he understood and forgave him. It was not only to make the boy think his father was conveying those feelings, but also to let him know that he, Sean O'Reilly, felt the same.

"I—I was so awful to ya." Trip now blurted out. "Oh, God, I never gave ya a chance. I made myself believe ya hated me as much as I did you. But I didn't really, did I? Hate ya, I mean."

O'Reilly was getting uncomfortable now, getting up and moving toward the door. Archer moved to the bed, sitting down next to Trip.

"Trip, you couldn't let your stepfather get close." Jon explained how he saw it all. "If you did, what would that say about your real dad? We all know any adult that would be in this same situation, argument with someone and then they're gone without ever reconciling, would be devastated. You were just a little boy. There's no way you were going to let any man take your daddy's place to make your life easier. In your mind you weren't hurting O'Reilly, you were punishing yourself."

"Trina?" Trip asked, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

O'Reilly moved to the center of the room. "I told her she couldn't leave you like that so abruptly. I knew it would devastate you. Your father had gone without goodbyes and now she was going to hurt you and, most likely, reopen old wounds. I told her I was going to tell you, and she begged me not to do it. Your outburst and the accusations you made in the weeks to follow made me realize I could never get through to you. Never protect you from anything. You wouldn't let me."

Trip wiped his eyes on his sleeve, sniffing to clear his nasal passageways. Jon rose now, moving to get a hanky and letting Trip have room to breathe. He returned and handed the kerchief to Trip, who took it and made ample use of it.

Trip rose from the bed now, moving to stand in front of O'Reilly now. Archer had moved next to Malcolm, who stood rigid by the door.

"I'm sorry for never letting you..." Trip inhaled deeply, then let it out. "You were a good father, I know that. I saw it in the way you were with the others. I'm sorry that I never let you be that way with me."

Sean O'Reilly shrugged his shoulders. "Accepted. But I was a man, you were a little boy. I dealt with it as best I could, too, I guess. But I do want to apologize to you, laddy. I never, ever should have giving you those hidings that I did. No matter what you did or said, that was the result of my frustration in not being able to get through to you. And it was wrong."

Trip lowered his head, then nodded, looking back up to meet his stepfather's eyes. "I accept, sir." Trip now extended his hand to the other man.

O'Reilly took his stepson's hand and gave it a firm handshake. "I'll be going now." He turned and walked up to the captain. "Thank you, Captain." Then he turned and looked back at his stepson. "Good night...Trip."

Trip felt slight tightening in the back of his throat, but swallowed it down. "Good night, Father."

The door closed and Trip stared at it for a moment. Jon had moved next to him, with Malcolm still shifting on his feet at the door.

"I'll be going, too." Reed finally said.

"Wait, Malcolm." Trip stopped him. He slowly made his way to stand in front of the straight as a rail brit. "Thanks for bein' there." And with that he gave the smaller man a quick bear hug.

"Oh, yes, well..." Malcolm nervously babbled. "See you in the morning."

Once they were alone, Jon looked at Trip thoughtfully. The latter just stared back with a sort of exhausted remorse. He knew Jon must feel hurt that he went to Malcolm instead of him. He had to say something, but he couldn't find the right words.

"Malcolm's a good friend." Jon said, as if reading Trip's mind.

"Yeah," Trip nodded. "I know. But you're still my best friend."

Archer smiled back at him, moving to meet him in a long embrace. He let Trip cling and then release when he was ready. "I was ready for bed a few hours ago, so why don't you do the same. It's been one helluva day and tomorrow looks like it's going to be a whole lot better."

Trip nodded and went into the bathroom, as Jon stripped off his shirt and settled into bed. Porthos seized the moment and jumped up to nuzzle next to his master.

Now he knew everything there was to know about Trip. Their friendship had been solid, but Jon couldn't help but feel that one taboo area where Trip's stepfather was concerned had left him feeling doubtful at times of the trust. Not anymore. Yes, he thought to himself, tomorrow is going to be the beginning of better days.


End file.
